


Excellent Bottom

by warm_nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who, Downton Abbey
Genre: Anal Sex, Bookstores, M/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, or at least i'm not writing a follow up, plus jack gets around, porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1836787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warm_nostalgia/pseuds/warm_nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Barrow just wanted to pick up a book from the book shop on his day off.<br/>The cashier gives him more than he bargained for.</p><p>(Please read beginning note.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excellent Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning that I've never watched Torchwood, just Doctor Who. So I'm making my assumptions from there about Jack Harkness and from the TARDIS wikia. That's why I didn't categorize it as Torchwood crossover as well. I might upset some people. Oh god I'm stupid wHY
> 
> Also, I'm probably getting a lot of historical shit wrong as well. 
> 
> I'm very sorry. I hope it's at least a little bit hot. If not, I might trash this. I was really tired writing this.

America is tiring, Thomas decided as he huddled through the drizzling rain and around the corner.   
  
The staff of Downton finally got their day off since they docked weeks ago. The underbutler was exalted to get out and stretch his weary limbs a bit. Currently, he was without an umbrella as he trudged down the pavement and into a nearby book shop. He didn't get to read as avidly as he had as a boy. Nor did he get the time to, which was probably why.   
  
As he entered the book shop, he realized he had no clue what exactly he was going to buy. He had his money and his time, but nothing to do with it. He glanced over at a taller man behind the counter, who was grinning at him.   
  
Thomas supposed someone ought to have a good day, at least. The smile was so genuine that he smiled a bit back, feeling a pink flush dot his cheeks. The man behind the big register was dressed a bit smartly, with shaggy, almost spiky dark hair and gentle eyes that matched. No suit jacket or waistcoat, but his pressed pinstripe shirt had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows under his apron which brandished the book store's name.  
  
Thomas quickly turned his lingering gaze away, but not before the man could flash a bigger smile (was it possible? Even his teeth seem perfect) and wave a friendly hand. "Can I help you find anything, sir?"  
  
American. Well, they all were here, weren't they?   
  
The underbutler blinked a few times, looking up from a book on women's fashion he'd accidentally picked up to look busy, and flushed all over again as he replaced it to the shelf. "Ah, just looking for now. Thank you, sir."  
  
The man behind the counter chuckled and nodded to his choice back on the shelf. "Good read, that one," he commented.  
  
Thomas felt a scowl grow on his face, but pushed it away. A tight smile was given instead. How childish. Probably a brute to whatever woman he keeps at home. Raising his nose a bit, Thomas retreated to another corner of the book shop and ran his fingers over the volumes he saw. Perhaps Verne's lands of fiction could take his mind off things, or Victor Hugo's dramatic tales...  
  
He nearly dropped _A Journey to the Centre of the Earth_ when the same man that was behind the counter joined him at the far end of the shelves, stocking a few books the right way around.   
  
"Kids are always running in here and flipping around the books. Spines should always go outward," he chuckled, glancing over at Thomas and meeting his eyes after the man's gaze had raked up his body.  
  
Thomas shifted on his feet and replaced Verne's work. His throat dried a bit. This man wasn't giving off mixed signals, was he? He was brutally handsome where he was, bent over with a book in hand, apron draping from his body, trousers hugging his rear almost...invitingly.  
  
Thomas noted he was staring again, possibly at places that could get him knocked good in the chin for his wandering eye. He looked up again to spy the man smirking at him.   
  
"I get that a lot, don't worry," he commented offhandedly, and Thomas blushed again. He was _okay_ with Thomas' staring? Perhaps America was more ahead of the times than England. Yes, that must've been it.   
  
"I'm - I'm sorry, I hadn't meant —" the underbutler began stuttering, but was cut off casually.  
  
"Have you read this?" asked the man, approaching him with book that he slid forcibly into his hands.  
  
Thomas shook his head. "No, I don't really read much —" He stopped dead upon seeing the title.  
  
 _The Collected Poems of_ _Oscar Wilde_  
  
Blanching, Thomas handed it back. "Excuse me if I'm reading wrong, but are you trying to push a notion onto me?"  
  
"I love the English," the man chuckled deeply, taking the book from his hands and deliberately brushing their fingers together for a long moment. He placed it back on a shelf. "Always trying to step around toes and apologizing for coming close." Suddenly, he was leaning toward Thomas and smoothing a hand down his arm. "Do you have a name?"  
  
Thomas flinched and pulled back from the touch, but his breathing had grown a bit heavier and his flush a bit pinker. "Barrow. Thomas Barrow."  
  
The man held out his hand. "Jack Harkness. Call me Jack. Or Captain, if you prefer," he grinned with a wink when Thomas shook his hand. "My shift is over if you'd like to grab a drink."  
  
Thomas swallowed. He hadn't fooled around with another man since Jimmy, although he'd just kissed him in his sleep. But this man — Jack — seemed completely willing and...and _f_ _lirting_  with him, even. God knows the next time he'd get the chance for this again, so Thomas nodded after some hesitation.  
  
"Great. Can I ask you for the year?"  
  
Thomas chuckled. "Excuse me?"  
  
"The year. No, not the day."  
  
"Well, it's nineteen-twenty-two, of course," Thomas answered, bemused as he followed the man past a few aisles of bookcases.  
  
Jack seemed to be messing with an invention Thomas had never seen, pulled out of his apron pocket. A futuristic type of wristwatch he'd snapped on. "Quick explaining before we do the drinking. I'm a time traveler who comes from the fifty-first century."  
  
The underbutler smiled. "All right, then. Best to get all our lies out now?" He straightened his shoulders. "I don't understand the joke."  
  
Jack turned, pausing in pushing buttons and turning cranks on his watch. "No, I mean I really am from the fiftieth century. Come here, Barrow. I'll prove it."  
  
Thomas laughed softly and joined him at his side, pressing a hand to Jack's lower back in flirtation. He frowned at the thing on his wrist that decidedly was not a watch. "What is that thing?"  
  
"A transporter. Ready? Hang onto me and I promise take you to a nice pub." Jack wound his arm about Thomas' waist and squeezed it before he pushed another button.  
  
And they were gone.

* * *

  
The environment changed, and Thomas' head ached. He held it and winced, eyes closing.  
  
"Sorry, that happens with these things. Cheap," he heard Jack's voice soothe softly. Thomas opened his eyes and nearly forgot to breathe.  
  
"What — h-how in the bloody hell did I get here, Harkness?" he breathed, glancing around the room and clutching onto Jack's shirt, probably wrinkling it.   
  
The walls of the small room were a deep violet, almost black. The large, soft-looking bed in the middle of the room had covers matching the walls and dark olive green throw pillows.   
  
"I told you I was a time traveler. This is a hotel room in the year two-thousand-and-fifteen. Expensive yet small. Great year, too."   
  
Fear plummeted in Thomas' stomach as he barely registered the words. "Do you own the hotel?"  
  
"No. And I'm not a lord of anything, either, so calm down and have some champagne," Jack grinned, grabbing Thomas' hand and dragged him to sit on the bed. He had out a tin tub full of ice, champagne bottles, and glasses, all on the bedside table.   
  
"Carpet. There's no wood anywhere here. It's...installed in?" Thomas observed as they kicked off their shoes.   
  
"Yeah, lots of places get it. Nice and scratchy."   
  
"The walls are bumpy."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Thomas sipped at the champagne in slight panic. "What's that thing?" he asked, pointing to the phone on table.   
  
"Ah, a telephone."  
  
Thomas tipped his head and widened his eyes.  
  
" _How?_ " he questioned.  
  
Jack laughed charmingly into his champagne glass.

* * *

  
"I want to kiss you. Is it bad to kiss men in this year?" Thomas murmured, putting down his third glass and running his arm down Jack's muscled arm.  
  
"Absolutely not. We could go get married right now if we'd like. That's how advanced we are in the twenty-first century," Jack murmured back, eyelids at half-mast.  
  
Thomas didn't quite catch on, but hummed and shrugged out of his unbuttoned waistcoat, his jacket already off earlier when the heat of the alcohol had taken its toll.   
  
"Aren't you letting me do that?" Jack asked voice a bit rough from what he'd drunk and the suggestiveness of his tone.   
  
And then, somewhere along the way of undressing each other, they began kissing.   
  
It was absolutely brilliant for Thomas, being pushed, pinned down by the weight of another man and kissed roughly in what felt like forever. Their tongues pushed and prodded and thrust against each other, and once they were down to their underwear, they shoved each others' off hurriedly as the clothing flew off the bed.   
  
Completely nude, Thomas gasped and squirmed when his nipple was thoroughly sucked and licked into Jack's mouth. "Oh - oh _God,_  Jack..." They were both achingly hard, erections brushing and dripping against each other. Thomas curled his fingers into Jack's brown hair, tugging as his back arched with a cry. "More, please. More," he gasped. He didn't think he'd ever been with a handsomer man than this. His muscles firm and chest heaving and eyes both alight with lust and soft with adoration.  
  
Jack relented his kisses to Thomas' chest and leaned back to rummage through the oak nightstand. He cleared his throat. "Intergalactic sexually transmitted diseases are sort of not good, and you can never be sure," he murmured. "Hope you don't mind - these things are condoms. Bit old fashioned," he chuckled to himself, hand running through his hair a moment and missing it up. "Slip them on you and ejaculate in them if you're in someone." He also pulled out a bottle of lubricant. "You want me in you, Thomas?"  
  
Thomas' mouth dried up and he let out a hapless moan. "Please...erm, Captain Harkness?" he tried, and it earned him a laugh and a smile.   
  
"Thatta boy. Not a problem, Barrow," Jack murmured as he moved over his body. He kissed him deeply for a few moments before moving between Thomas' legs and sliding the condom on himself. He grabbed the bottle of lube again before hesitating and tossing it aside. "Actually, on your front, bum in the air. How many men have you been with?"  
  
Thomas rolled over and shoved his rear upward as directed. His head rested on his forearms. "A...few. Only one stayed for a long w-while..."   
  
Jack's hands were kneading Thomas' buttocks back and forth. "Hm..." He shifted down, kissing each cheek once. "Have any of them tried this?"  
  
Thomas' penis jerked to attention as he flushed crimson and cried out. A warm, wet tongue prodded around his hole, lapping over the wrinkled circle and dipping the tip in. "N-no, no, _no,_ keep - oh, Christ —!"   
  
Jack pulled out. "That's a no?" He grinned as Thomas whined and pushed his bottom backward toward the man's face. "You're a gorgeous Englishman, Thomas. And I've had sex with a lot of Englishmen." He leaned in and swiped his tongue over the crease inside, stopping to thrust his tongue in and out again, almost half in.   
  
After an agonizing few minutes of this, Thomas growled and pulled away. "Enough, get in me," he commanded.  
  
"A fussy bottom, too!" Jack laughed, leaning up to kiss at Thomas' cheek and neck a few times.   
  
Thomas closed his eyes and grinned, face stuffing back into his arms and wriggling his bum.  
  
Jack spread lubricant onto his condom and lined his cock up to Thomas' hole, nudging in the head. Thomas moaned brokenly, fingers curling into the purple bed and sucking in deep breaths. "More," he whispered after a few moments. "All the way, Jack."  
  
Jack consented, breathing damply against Thomas' lower back as he moved in with one mighty push that made the man below him yell out. "Okay?" he asked, fingers trailing his side carefully.   
  
"Yes, quite all right, yes," Thomas gulped. "Wait a moment."  
  
Jack did, pressing kisses all over any skin of Thomas' back he could. A hand curled around Thomas' erection and began stroking. Finally, Thomas pushed back against him, rounding his hips against Jack. "Go. Move."  
  
First gently, Jack groaned as he pushed in and out at a slow speed. But quickly enough he'd felt the haze of utter lust hitting both of them, and Thomas could feel the distinct change of speed as Jack's hips hit his. The lewd snap between their sweating skin resounded in the room, neither of them speaking but making animalistic noises when certain places were hit or brushed.  
  
Eventually, Thomas was seeing stars as he was being pounded into and moaning wantonly beneath Jack. His cock drooled, flushed and aching in Jack's fast-moving fist. He couldn't catch his breath, and shouted aloud as his vision greyed. He came, spurting four times over Jack's knuckles, white streaks and splats against the dark plum of the bed. Cream against purple. He collapsed against his own semen, but didn't care.  
  
He vaguely registered Jack stilling and gasping behind him, hips stuttering a moment as he came and choked out noises against him. When Thomas felt Jack fall against him bonelessly, he groaned and shifted. "Get out," he murmured, feeling uncomfortable.  
  
Jack wheezed a laugh. "One second, just one sec, gorgeous," he whispered, wrapping his arms around Thomas' body and kissing the back of his neck. After softening completely, Jack gripped the base of the condom and slid out, flopping down beside Thomas, who had rolled onto his back, cuddling into the bed.   
  
Thomas felt himself pulled close, blissfully content at the end of the bed with this mysterious book shop employee. He chuckled and cuddled into the strong chest. "I believe I'm dreaming and I don't want to wake up," he muttered.  
  
"Don't worry. You're not dreaming, beautiful."  
  
"I need to go back to nineteen-twenty-two," Thomas sighed. "I need to help with the dinner at nineteen hundred."  
  
"Seven o'clock? Time travel, remember? I can get you back whenever you want. No one would know."  
  
Thomas grinned. "I may take you up on that offer, Captain." Soon enough he had rolled on top of Jack and began kissing him deeply. "Captain of what, exactly?" He asked.  
  
Hours later than he should have ever been out, Thomas ran his fingers over his lips, contemplating the day and the sweaty man holding him close and dangerously close to sleep. The thought of more days off struck him as a fantastic opportunity.  
  
Yes, more days off would be a good thing indeed. Perhaps America wasn't so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> if you really liked it you could even comment "your viewing figures just went up" haaaaaaaaaaa GET IT GET IT  
> sorry thanks for reading oh god i've never written for this ship or done a crossover bye


End file.
